


Cafe Blend

by JackPhryne4eva



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, First Time, Fluff, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackPhryne4eva/pseuds/JackPhryne4eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually a sandwich and fruit was her lunch routine. Eaten hurriedly while sitting at her swamped desk. Maybe once in a great while on a warm, sunny day, taken outside. But today wasn't that kind of day. She couldn't be at her desk today with coworkers talking, asking questions. She felt that a quiet, intimate lunch in a cafe was just what she needed today. The next chapter came out of the Miss Fisher Murder Mysteries fanfic she was eagerly (religiously?) following. Around the corner from her work was a restaurant she'd often passed, but had never had the courage to walk into by herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cafe Blend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hypatia200](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia200/gifts), [RakishAngle (afterdinnerminx)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterdinnerminx/gifts).



> Thanks to Hypatia200 for beta-ing many, many months ago and to the Phrack rewatchers, specifically Afterdinnerminx who suggested I get on with it already.
> 
>  
> 
> To attempt some clarity (sanity?) I included handy notations:
> 
> \-------------- indicates a switch between "reality" and "MFMM fanfic"  
> \--- indicates switch of POV within "MFMM fanfic"  
> *** indicates switch of POV within "reality"
> 
> Comments welcome!

Usually a sandwich and fruit was her lunch routine. Eaten hurriedly while sitting at her swamped desk. Maybe once in a great while on a warm, sunny day, taken outside. But today wasn't that kind of day. She couldn't be at her desk today with coworkers talking, asking questions. Even though it was beautiful outside, that was too exposed to the glances of others. She felt that a quiet, intimate lunch in a cafe was just what she needed today. Today. The next chapter came out of the Miss Fisher Murder Mysteries fanfic she was eagerly (religiously?) following. She got the email alert just as her work day started. And she'd barely contained herself for the dragging hours until lunchtime. Waiting for when she could give it the attention it deserved in an environment where she would feel comfortable reading.  
Around the corner from her work was a restaurant she'd often passed, but had never had the courage to walk into by herself. The menu in French, the tables clothed in thick-looking linens. It said too rich, too luxurious for her. Just her alone. So she'd passed it. Before. Slowly. To see what people were drinking, or eating, or wearing. The wait staff looked pleasant, not sneering or condescending like at some "bistros" she'd been with other people or with a date trying to be impressive. She never felt comfortable at _that_ kind of restaurant.

Today, though, required something special, for her and the story, and she thought this place would just right for their splurge.

Opening the door, she was assaulted with an aroma that made her mouth water. Onion soup. Her favorite. She took a breath, determined now to stay, and steeled herself to keep her back straight, chin up and say, "Table for one."

The maitre d' who looked up as she entered the intimate dining room had put a smile on his face and asked, "Where would mademoiselle care to sit?"  
Privacy for her and her tablet was paramount. "Ah, have you a corner table available?"

"Oui, mademoiselle. This way." The maitre d' led her to a table tucked back in the far corner of the restaurant just beyond the kitchen door. Perfect for what she had in mind. The tension was now creeping and coiling in her belly. Phryne and Jack wouldn't be waiting much longer.

Taking the seat proffered her, she sank into the luxury with a little guilt. Just a little. Then she felt overwhelmed by the menu given with a flourish. Well, she knew for lunch they had onion soup. And coffee and tea. Salads. She'd seen that on other people's tables. Her waiter (he was dark-haired and cute!) materialized to take her drink order and returned more efficiently than she'd ever experienced. This restaurant really was decadent for her. She bit her lip and stirred some cream and sugar into her coffee ( _Mr. B, café au lait, s'il vous plaît_ ). 

Her waiter returned and took her order for onion soup ( _Soupe a l'onion_ ) and a Nicoise salad ( _thon_ = tuna? or, oh yuck, tongue?) and again disappeared into the kitchen. Quickly looking around at the other diners happily lunching, she pulled her tablet from her shoulder bag. The screen flashed to life and she opened the app she wanted. But before she could select the story, the waiter returned (he was attentive, wasn't he?) with her soup. She gave him a grateful smile and thanked him. Inhaling deeply, she relished the flavors drifting up from the ramekin of soup covered in golden gruyere.  
Maybe eating soupe a l'onion while reading MFMM fic was sufficient homage? She slipped the tablet onto the table and flicked open the story.

\--------------

The Right Honorable Phryne Fisher and Detective Inspector Jack Robinson sat in chairs angled towards each other in her well-appointed parlour and gazed at each other from over the tops of their delicate porcelain cups. The sexual tension between them was palpable, shimmering in waves like the heat rising off their coffees. The excitement had been building for months over whiskeys, over his office desk, over dead bodies. Each testing, teasing, neither had been quite ready to admit acceptance or defeat. 

\--------------

She flushed pink from what their heated looks meant and looked away briefly to the dining room (she saw that no one noticed her), before being drawn inexorably back to them, their smiles reflected in her face. 

\--------------

Phryne smiled in an inviting, suggestive manner indicating what she wanted, intended to do to Inspector Robinson.  
Meanwhile Jack smiled reluctantly, slowly from the corner of his mouth as if he was loathe to give in so easily to Miss Fisher’s enflamed desire. 

\--------------

"Excuse me, miss, your Nicoise salad." The cute waiter broke into the mental images crowding out the reality around her. She was almost embarrassed as if she’d been caught in the act of... of something she couldn’t even find the words to describe… this swelling emotion, this deeply physical response to Miss Fisher's and Inspector Robinson's ravenous FACIAL expressions.  
Was it immoral to see this sensuous dance on public display and enjoy it? Yes, it felt illicit and so delicious! The surging warmth flushing her skin... she wanted… needed more, she craved more of their glances, their eyes undressing each other. What was everyone calling it? _Eye sex._ It certainly felt like all the symptoms of sex to her.

\---------------

While Miss Fisher had recently been teasing him with her suggestive postures (on his desk!) and alluring attire, Jack noted that today Miss Fisher appeared sedately dressed in a red, black, and cream cowl neck blouse with cream trousers. Of course, looks can be deceiving, he could usually tell when she was planning to spring something on him.

\---

Phryne closed the space between herself and the Inspector by leaning over to set down her now empty coffee cup on the round accent table. "Inspector," she began, "I've been meaning to ask you about your preference in tie knots. Is the four-in-hand or half-Windsor more to your liking?" Not giving the Inspector a chance to even respond (or argue or leave!), Phryne swept on, "You seem to adjust your tie often and I wonder if that has something to do with the type of knot you are using?" Placing her hand over the knot at his throat, she continued, "I could show you a knot more comfortable." 

\---

Jack's Adam's apple dipped in response as if it too wanted release from the restrictive bond he had placed on it. If he was to disengage himself from this situation, he would have to either move away from Miss Fisher or remove her hand from around the knot of his tie. The former indicated retreat (and therefore defeat) while the latter pushed them closer to the precipice. He wasn't sure if he could get any closer to the edge and survive the plunge, so he (attempted) to slide away from Miss Fisher's grip. Unfortunately, she seemed better able to handle skirting the danger than he and did not release her hand. In fact, she used his movement to loosen his tie and pull it partially from his waistcoat. (Oh God, this was worse!) 

\---

A wicked glint sparked in Phryne’s eyes and she exclaimed, "How thoughtful to allow room for me to sit with you, Inspector!" 

\---

She squeezed into the impossibly narrow space of his chair and the full length of her thigh pressed against his (oh her warm thigh). His arm, which had been on the armrest, was now wrapped around Miss Fisher’s covered back (thank god). His thoughts stuttered (I’m holding her in my arms) then ran headlong to envisioning himself touching her thighs (Is she wearing stockings?) and pulling her closer (If I curl my fingers will I feel her breast?) before he could reprimand himself (Stop it, man! Do you want to be next on her never-ending list of men?). 

\-------------

An amused smile spread across her face and a rush of heat gathered in her stomach. Oh Jack! She wants you and not just for a fling! Just relax and go for it! With a racing heart, she admitted she could NEVER read this at work. Furtively, she looked around to see if she’d been seen herself. If she’d been found out for her indecorous behavior.

\------------- 

Phryne tugged at the Inspector’s burgundy tie and unraveled the knot as the his hands firmly held the arms of the chair.  
"Now, for the half-Windsor start with the wide end of your necktie, Jack, on the right, extending about 12 inches below the narrow end on the left. Then cross the wide end over the narrow end. Bring the wide end around and back behind the narrow end. Do you see what I’m doing?” 

\---

Jack’s eyes flickered down to his tie, but instead took in Miss Fisher’s graceful neck, her collar bones, and a bit more skin visible through the cowl of her blouse. What was she doing? 

\---

“Now bring up the wide end. Pull it through the loop and to the right. Bring it around to the front, over the narrow end from right to left. Again, bring the wide end up and through the loop. Can you see how the knot is forming, Jack?” and she flicked a glance at Jack’s face. Phryne noted his glassy eyes and bit her lip. This was really a dangerous game to play and she loved teasing Jack.

\---

His breathing accelerated to match his rising panic. Fight or flight? Jack felt faint. The heady feelings were crowded into his feverish brain. Here she was giving him a tutorial on his sartorial choices and he was going to pass out. Miss Fisher’s goal to ensnare and torture him was succeeding. In a desperate bid to take control of himself, Jack squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

\---

“Now then pay close attention, Jack, bring the wide end down through the knot in front. And -- be sure to use both of your hands, Jack-- tighten the knot, very carefully up to your collar. How’s that for a twist on the usual, Jack?” With his eyes shut, Phryne took further advantage of Jack’s distraction and placed her hands on either side of the beautifully knotted tie. His eyes flew open and Phryne looked up into them. 

\---

When she gazed simply into his eyes, Jack’s restraint snapped and he leaned down to suck hungrily on the tantalizing flesh of her throat. The devil incarnate. Why did he ever think he could resist her? With hands freed from their bondage, he thrilled to stroke the curves of her shoulders and pulled her body closer to his hungry mouth. 

\---

Phryne slid her pale hands around his waist, under his jacket, and upwards to his broad shoulders. She ached to stroke the skin of his bare back. Her fingers clutched at his waistcoat in frustration and Phryne moaned. Instinctively, Jack moved to cover Phryne’s full lips. Her mouth responded by opening in breathy anticipation of Jack’s tongue. They readily drank in each other’s flavors, mingling the heat of their fevered breaths.

\------------- 

A shiver tingled up her spine and along her limbs as she anticipated their shared passions accelerating, moving to the...  
Their breathing accelerated with the thrill of their release. Hers too rushed faster mingling their passion with the thrill of her voyeurism. She closed her eyes to linger over the sensual scene and felt her own hot blood pulse through her veins. Her own erotic desires were not quite satisfied by the story, they had only had been brought to the knife edge and sharpened.  
As if breaking the surface of a pool, noises pulled her attention away from Jack and Phryne... a door opening, a murmur of voices. A blush rose to her cheeks as she realized she was nearly undone herself… caught up with their exploring hands, their audible kisses... Silently, she had joined in the embrace--touching, smoothly sliding her hands up her firm legs, down the arms of her blouse. She wanted (ached!) to be touched by someone in the way that Jack touched Phryne.  
***  
He approached her routinely, but hesitated as he suddenly comprehended her distracted expression, her flushed face, panting breaths, her erect nipples pressed through her thin bra and shirt…  
In that moment, an offer quite different from his original intention leapt to mind. It hovered on his tongue as his own unmet needs pushed on his dark trousers. In contradiction to the mundane scene, unbidden, indecent thoughts surfaced: the feel of her skin just under her ear, the taste of her tantalizing throat, the texture of her luscious breasts, the sensitivity of her nipples as he bit them...  
He struggled to clamp down on the thrilling flutter in his chest, conscious that he might be observed, so obvious in his position.  
In the next instant, his usual offer barely succeeded while his wolfish expression spoke of daring alternatives,  
“More coffee, miss?” 

***

A voice, a rumbling baritone caught her in flagrante delicto, and she hurriedly slid the tablet into her lap. Self-consciously, she adjusted her legs. She attempted to smother the tingling in her stomach, the thrill slithering up her spine.  
She couldn’t quite meet the waiter’s eyes (and so missed the particular shade of blue being crowded out by his dilated pupils). She just took in his lips, parted and glistening wetly. Her own tongue darted out to moisten her lips before she managed to respond shakily, “Yes, thank you.” 

***

He had made a heroic effort to regain control of his staggering emotions, his own blush barely faded from his cheeks. He focused his eyes carefully on his duty and away from her tempting proximity (how would she smell just after… not helping. Stop, just stop). With practiced moves, he quickly refilled this alluring diner’s coffee cup. 

***

When the waiter’s muscular arm moved into her field of vision (how did she miss noticing his forearms before?), a gasp nearly escaped as her stomach tightened in attraction. She dragged her eyes across the tendons of his arm while he refilled her coffee cup. Before he straightened, she flicked a glance up to his face. Did this beautiful man recognize her lustful thoughts?  
She was conflicted. On the one hand she was mortified to be found out, but on the other hand, this story was steaming hot! Her mortification deepened. He probably thought she was some obsessed nympho for reading lewd material in public. But, she rationalized, she saw people reading Fifty Shades of Grey in public and no one said anything. Besides, who cares what he thought about her reading material! She was an adult and it was her choice what to read. And how satisfying it was for her was her business.  
As the waiter moved silently away from her table, she fixed a newly appreciative gaze on his retreating backside and broad shoulders until he stepped lightly through the door to the kitchen. She flashed her eyes around the now filled dining room, to the other preoccupied diners to ascertain their continued indifference to her.  
Returning to her bubble of privacy at her corner table, her thoughts slipped back to Phryne and Jack... 

***

She added more cream and sugar to her freshened cup, and distractedly stirred the coffee. She slowly licked the few drops from her spoon, then surreptitiously pulled up her tablet. As she dropped her eyes to resume the story, she didn’t notice him patiently contemplating her from an unobtrusive doorway on the opposite side of the intimate dining room. He was interrupted by another waiter emerging from the kitchen with a tray laden with orders, “Hey Jack, your order’s ready for Table 5.” 

\--------------

As Jack smoothed his fingers under the neckline of Phryne’s blouse and over her bare shoulders, he nuzzled her delicate collarbones. After a moment of inhaling her intoxicating French perfume, he murmured, “Shall we move to somewhere more, discreet?” Without a word, Phryne extricated herself from Jack’s embrace. She took his hand and pulled him towards the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tie-a-Tie website for the directions for tying a Half Windsor.  
> http://www.tie-a-tie.net/halfwindsor.html


End file.
